The Hope Diamond
by Majokai Yukiko
Summary: *UPDATED* AU. Rociel has everything he wants. He is a successful businessman with his own fashion label, and a slave owner. But it was until he bought a new slave that he realize how very wrong he was.
1. Prologue

**The Hope Diamond | Prologue**

**An Angel Sanctuary Fanfiction By Majokai Yukiko**

**Pairing: Rociel x Katan**

**Warnings: Slavery.**

**This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe upon the rights of Yuki Kaori, Hana to Yume and its associates. **

A.N: This is an AU fiction. [Meaning, you can basically ignore what happens in the series, generally] If you don't like the idea of it, then too bad, don't read. ^0^

I realize I'm beginning the pattern of naming my AS stories after gems. First was 'Tears of the Moon' (which basically meant pearls) and now diamonds…argh…

---

New York, USA 

At the age of twenty-five, Katan was very happy with his life. He was one of the highest earner in Boston, had dashing supermodel looks and a loving fiancée that he was planning to marry that fall. Best of all, he had just sent one of the biggest, most cruel slave master of the city into life imprisonment five minutes ago. 

"Damn you! You fucking son of a bitch! I swear I'll get you when I can. You better watch your steps tonight, damn you!" The man known to the American public as Belial kicked, shouted and yelled as he was forcefully wrestled back into his cell, where he would no doubt spend the rest of his days in. 

Katan gave the criminal a charming smile and slapped his briefcase shut. Why bother with what he says? Belial was not called the Prince of Lies for nothing. 

He smirked. 

Finally, five months of hard work had not gone unpaid. The thought of that disgusting creep in prison would sure to give Katan the dreamless sleep he had gone without for so long that night. 

Had he ever told anyone he love his life? Sure he did. 

With a genuine smile on his face, he made his way out of the courts and towards the car park where his car was. 

---

London, England 

Somewhere on the other side of the globe, somebody else was feeling very pleased with himself. As a matter of fact, he had been very pleased with himself since his career had taken a high flight three years ago. 

Rociel leant back on his office chair and smiled. He had his own fashion label named after himself, an entire wardrobe of clothes he had designed for himself, and a lovely mansion of slaves who practically worshipped the ground he tread on. What else could he possibly want?

Most of all, he had managed to prove his parents' "old money" thinking wrong. 

The silver haired man leant forward and turned down the down lights in his office, wanting to enjoy the night view of London from his office. The bright words 'Rociel' glowed across the huge metal gates of his mansion. 

It was his real name, unbelievable as it was. Knowing the sort of people his parents were, they would have named their children 'Abel' and 'Cain' if they had two sons. But life had given them a son and a daughter instead. Or perhaps they had given their children names of angels because they simply want to play God. Who knows?

Rociel leant back and smiled smugly to himself. Well, thinking about his parents might be depressing, but there was always that slave fair that he was invited to next month. Perhaps he could spare the time for it after all. 

---

**La Convoitise**

**Paris, France**

The young fashion designer had not even bothered to stifle his yawn. The auction was such a disappointment, he decided. A complete waste of effort in crossing the English Channel on an otherwise relaxing Sunday afternoon. 

Rociel was hoping to see something new that day. He wanted a slave that had not been broken by his previous masters, hopefully somebody who still owned that little spark of defiance within. But so far all the slaves put up on auction that day had not quite been up to his standards. They were either damaged goods – to eager to please, to throw themselves at his feet and start licking his boots – or obviously straight homophobic men who were only turned into this trade by force. Nothing that interest him at all. 

"Well, well, what do I have here?" A low baritone spoke up. With the lazy grace of a cat, Rociel offered a smirk and pulled the newcomer down for chaste kiss. 

"Me, of course, my Devil." That man was Kira Sakuya, better known in the slaving community as Lucifer. He was also the owner of the auction house, La Convoitise, and the one who had sent a special invitation out to Rociel for the event. 

"How have you been finding the merchandise so far?" Kira asked, taking the empty seat beside Rosiel. 

"Really, Luc, I thought you would have better taste than…" he threw another disgusted glance at the stage and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Losing your capable minions seems to be affecting you more than it should, Kira." 

Kira chuckled. 

"Oh no, we take care of our own, definitely. And I trust Belial to only help me and not cause trouble for me. Come, my friend, I'll show you what I consider to be my best acquisition for this auction." He took out his cell phone and gave Rociel a brief wink. "I was planning to keep him for myself, but I'll let you see him first."

Now, that lifted Rociel's spirits a little. It was always enjoyable to vie with his friend for something, may it be a painting or a slave. 

But something on stage had caught Rociel's eye first. Maybe it was the reflection of the spotlight on the slave's silvery white hair. Or perhaps it was simply the unbreakable spirit and intelligence he exuded even as he was dragged out onto the stage like a wild animal, blindfolded and hands bound behind his back. 

The crowd lost interest almost immediately. Most slave owners present there liked their pets obedient and pliant, ready to serve their every wish, but not Rociel. He has had enough of bootlickers. Time for something different. 

Kira followed Rociel's gaze back to the stage and kept his phone with a thoughtful look on his face. 

"Him?" The dark hared man asked. "Isn't he a little too old for your liking?"

Rociel ignored him. 

He got off his seat and made his way to where the slave was. The naked man stiffened slightly, ears perking up at the sound of footsteps approaching. 

"And there was light…" Rociel whispered, yanking the blindfold off. 

Katan thought he had died and went to heaven then. Only that saint Peter would never have come strutting before him in an expensive leather coat and equally expensive dark leather pants. But nonetheless, he thought it was an angel who had appeared before him. 

"My name is Rociel…" The beauty said to him, a sincere smile gracing that effeminate face with greater brilliance. "Do you want to come home with me?"

Katan nodded yes. 


	2. Chapter 1

**The Hope Diamond | Chapter 1**

**An Angel Sanctuary Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko**

**Pairing: Rociel + Katan**

**Warnings: Slavery. AU. **

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Yuki Kaori, Hana to Yume, and its associates. 

**A/N:** I do know of the myth of the Hope Diamond and there is a reason why this story is titled it. Just read on and keep up with the updates. You'll see. 

**MadamButterfly:** Ah, since you live in London, is it okay if I send you a private email asking you some questions about the city, its culture, the laws of the country and all that? I'm stuck on this sunny little island in SE Asia so I really have no idea how the world look like over on the other side of the globe. ^0^

---

London, England 

Rociel considered himself a fine man—an avid collector of fine art, fine wine and of course, fine woman. That was probably why he was feeling rather pleased with himself at the moment as he looked upon the sleeping figure of his latest acquisition. 

Soft silver hair so similar to his own, set against pale flawless skin on a well toned body—Katan was indeed, perfection. 

Rociel casually swept some stray bangs away from the handsome face, noting the instinctive flinch with silent fury. That was definitely an irritating habit that the slave would have to quit, the designer decided. But the only way to ensure that happens was to not whip the man. A few weeks of kind treatment and he would have this beautiful man all to himself. As long as he was his slave, another man would not touch Katan. He would make sure of it. 

He bit his lower lip angrily, glaring at the ugly bruises that marred the otherwise lovely body. He cursed mentally at those who had caused those bruises. 

A successful lawyer; that was what Lucifer told him. A successful American lawyer who was kidnapped a month ago and forced into the slave trade. Rociel was not sure if the ransom was paid. It was definitely possible that his kidnappers decided to wheedle more money out of the man by selling him to the community. Five masters in a month's time. 

What had they done to you, beautiful one? Or did your family even pay the ransom at all? Is money more important to them than you are?

The man stirred slightly in his sleep and opened his eyes, watching Rociel with barely concealed fear in those silvery depths. Rociel smiled and pressed his lips against Katan's. 

Katan shuddered a little. But it had felt good. The kiss was gentle, just some soft nibbling on his lips, silently asking for permission and not taking the kiss forcefully. He wanted to kiss back, but Rociel pulled away before he could do so. Katan frowned. 

"See? It was not so bad after all." 

Katan nodded mutely and went back to sleep, possibly too tired to do anything else. 

"I'm leaving him up to your care, Kyrie." Rociel turned around, a benevolent smile on his face, reserved only for the blonde girl. 

She's not a girl anymore. Rociel mentally reminded himself. But it was so hard to tell. His father gave Kyrie to him on his eighteenth birthday, meaning to start him on the slaving trade. She started him on it all right, but Rociel had not touched her in the sexual way, not once in all that seven years that he had kept her around. He simply did not swing that way. 

Rociel took another appraising look at his personal housemaid. It was hard to see her past the teenager that she looked like, even though she was already turning twenty this year. How fast time flies…and before he knew it, he would have been dead, buried and along, just like Jacob Marley had been. 

But he would rather not think about that now and enjoy his life.

"Is he broken yet?" Kyrie asked. 

The self-made millionaire sighed and began walking out of the room, gesturing for Kyrie not to follow. 

"A little too thoroughly though. Train him well for me, sweet pet." And he was off. 

Smitten. The master was definitely smitten by his newest slave. Kyrie ground her teeth together painfully. Was she training her replacement?

---

Katan woke up to the annoying ringing of the bedside phone, wondering for a moment why it was not picked up and why was the entire house so quiet for that matter. Usually by the time he woke up Laila would already have the breakfast done and preparing to get his daughter Tailiel ready for school. 

He picked up the phone.

"Good morning, Katan. My name is Kyrie and the Master had given me the job of training you. First things first, what do you want for breakfast this morning?" 

The Master? His mind swirled dizzily. Then he remembered. There was no more beautiful fiancée waiting to be the perfect housewife for him, no more eight-year-old kid that would pounce him childishly to tickle him awake. He had been snatched from that world and could no longer return to it. Not that he would want to return, after all that he had been through, Katan was no longer sure if he could face the rest of the world again. 

"Katan?" The voice on the phone asked again. 

"Oh…I'm sorry. What were you asking?"

"Breakfast. What do you want for breakfast?"

Katan was stunned. Too many surprises for a day! First, he had woken up to no perverted 'Masters' demanding sex from him, and he was now given the choice for food? 

He wondered what this place would be like. His first master had enjoyed beating him, for no reason or purpose. It was under him that he learnt obedience…or at least, what it meant to be fearful of something or someone. He was afraid to do anything that would displease the Master, not daring to breathe even. That lasted for a few days and he was passed on to another, who loves his men to look skinny. And he was starved, treated like a dog during those days. When he grew tired of his slave, Katan was then passed onto the guards who took him any time they could, even when he was sleeping. 

Katan remembered the man who kissed him just now. He seemed kind, but then again, it could just be another sick joke. He no longer had any idea what to expect from these people. 

But if he was a Master, why bother with this charade? Giving him a clean bed to sleep in and the choice of food for breakfast; that made zero sense to him. 

"You mean there is a choice?" 

A light laugh came from the line. 

"You will find this place different from where you have been from, Katan. But anyway, since anything sounds good to you right now…will you mind pancakes?  I'll send it up later."

"Best offer I've had for a long time." Katan replied. He carefully replaced the phone back onto the bedside table and took his time to examine the room he was in. Neat, orderly and tastefully decorated. On the desk by the window was a stack of books, both for light reading and business books. 

Katan got up from the soft mattress and walked to the table, ignoring the rest of him that was screaming for him to get back to rest. There was a note on the table written in a elegant script, one of those handwriting you would expect to see from 18th century scholars. 

"Take a nice long shower when you're up. This room is yours, including the clothes you'd find in the wardrobe. Signed, R." 

_R? Who is R?_

For a brief moment, Katan fervently wished that he was in his office, and that past month was simply a bad nightmare. Alexiel would be in the main office, happily gossiping with Anael the same way female lawyers often do. He would be busy working on that murder case that he had to present that afternoon while his secretary, Laila, would come in with a cup of coffee, reminding him not to overwork himself. 

Of his two partners in the firm, Katan preferred Alexiel. She was strong in the way independent women often were, but empathetic at the same time. She would offer some advice for his case and she was the only one who understood his real reasons for marrying Laila. 

He adored Laila. But he did not love her. She loves him though and that was enough. He believed time was enough for love to grow between them. He needed a mother for his daughter and virtuous Laila seemed like the perfect person for that.  

Long moments passed and Katan stilled his thoughts, his eyes traveling to the large wardrobe at the corner of the room. A shower would be nice. 

End of Chapter 1

Continue to Chapter 2


End file.
